Brother Ride 2009

My brothers and I join forces a second time to ride with a friend Casey from home base in Moscow, Idaho to an idyllic spot along Marble Creek in the St. Joe Ranger District where we probe the mysteries of MREs and revel at a preternaturally bright moon.

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It looks like this may become an annual pilgrimage. Last year we kept going in circles.¹ We had better plans this time.

Our brother Jeremy lives near the water over in Washington state and has somehow prioritized family friendly watercraft over the two wheeled variety. So this year a co-worker of Jesse’s, Casey, was our Jeremy proxy. We didn’t have time to coach him on our missing brother’s mannerisms but his acting was okay.

Like last year, we would ride in the St. Joe Ranger District of the Clearwater National Forest. It’s a beautiful mix of crystal clear creeks and lakes, high mountain crags and shadowy forests connected by interesting and sometimes technical dirt roads and trails.

Since I live down in Boise, my trip begins with 300 miles of slab going north. The twisty two-lane route through central Idaho is beautiful in its own right, though traffic speeds leave me with more TKC chicken strip than I wanted. I rode the last hour under a nearly full moon, heated grips clicked on, This American Life² podcasts in my earbuds.³

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While waiting for our brother Jesse and Casey to get off work, Joel and I shopped for interesting camping gadgets. There had to be something we still needed. I noticed Joel’s Action Packer tub and played with positioning it on the GS wondering if it could help the three day, two-up camping ride Jess and I have planned in a few weeks. Joel noticed and liked the idea for himself so it was off to the hardware store for some stainless bolts to mount the thing on his bike.

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As usual, the first gas-up was in Clarkia at the typical small town gas station/bar/store. Jesse and Joel topped off their bikes then shut off the pump for Casey’s turn. But Casey couldn’t get it to come back on. A lady inside yelled instructions from the window: turn it on, turn it off. Pump the handle repeatedly. And so on. Apparently malfunctions aren’t uncommon.

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When we couldn’t make it work she came out to demonstrate proper technique. But it didn’t work for her either in spite of her husband’s (I’m guessing) similarly helpful advice yelled from the same window.

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So onward. Marble Creek was our destination. There was a sweet spot as soon as we descended from the winding mountain road to the water. Jesse and Joel said they’d never seen it available. It was unexpectedly quiet for a holiday weekend. Maybe we beat the traffic!